Untold Damage (Poetry)

They never owned what harm they did
for neither parent was inclined
so damage was, for years, well-hid
but since has surfaced — haunts my mind.

And I wish and wish it wasn’t so
I yearn to think about the past
with true affection but I know
there is no loving light to cast.

Bleak winter ruled my mother’s heart
with no forgiving hint of spring
my father lived a land apart
unreachable by anything.

Chill, the air hung in our house
and dark the ever-pressing cloud
too long those hours spent alone
with thoughts I dare not say aloud.

It’s clear now, looking back, to see
they weren’t a happy man and wife
if only they had not had me
or any child to share their life.

Some people really are not fit
no natural skills for parenthood
and I’m the fucked-up proof of it
doomed — depressed — misunderstood.

The story should have ended there
but fate had one more trick to play
if I’d more sense and taken care
they’d not be grandparents today.

Thus procreation’s circle turns
despite the pity and the cost
when hope in its last hour learns
that bridge is burnt — all love’s been lost.